


SCARLET RIBBONS

by vanhunks



Series: CHRISTMAS MIRACLES [3]
Category: Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-08
Updated: 2016-12-08
Packaged: 2018-09-07 07:56:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,380
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8789818
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vanhunks/pseuds/vanhunks
Summary: This time Chakotay reflects on his good fortune after making the decision to bring Katie to Earth, to her genetic mother. It's about a request a little girl makes...





	

**Author's Note:**

> It's about the Christmas miracles...

* * *

Katie lay sleeping in the dim glow of the light by her bedside. The child had taken a look in the database at all the pictures of bed lamps and decided Mickey Mouse had to stand by her bedside and keep her company while she drifted off to sleep. Her cheeks were flushed and her long deep golden hair fanned about her face. She lay on her side with a small fist tucked under her cheek. Her breathing quickened, a sign perhaps that she was still somewhere between deep slumber and dreaming. Chakotay sighed, absently stroking  the hair away from her face, still awed by the velvety softness of her rosy cheeks.

His eyes closed. The child stirred and he cursed under his breath. It had been harder to get Katie to sleep tonight. She had been intractable and fractious and excited at the same time. Tonight she had been unusually restless, burying her fevered face in his neck as he held her. Then, after reading her bedtime stories, she had calmed somewhat, lulled by his voice. She had asked plaintively, "Daddy, please tell me the story of the Lady in the Picture..."

He gave a little inward sigh. The Lady in the Picture. A story he had written, which sounded like a fairytale, with too much truth in it. But Katie had been satisfied and her eyes had finally closed as he read to her. Katie had whispered dreamily, "I'm soon going to see the Lady in the Picture..."

He'd finally come to a decision about Katie's future and whatever the outcome, his daughter was all he cared about. He wanted to swear in silence, curse everyone around him. Only two months after Annika died, Katie had stopped asking after her mother. Another sigh, a rough braking of his runaway thoughts to the time of the accident and the news of his wife's death. The fingers that had caressed Katie's cheek stilled, broke away from the impulse of digging his nails into the child's soft skin.

"Only one week then we leave, Daddy," Katie had gasped, unable to breathe properly after he told her about his decision a few days ago. She'd finally drifted off and now he was about to undo his work and wake her again. He was as restless as his little girl, he thought with some irritation. Restless and excited and not a little apprehensive at what he was about to do. His eyes stole to the picture on the bedside, illuminated by the Mickey Mouse lamp, the smiling face glowing as if the subject had been standing right there beside him.

Kathryn Janeway.

The Lady in the Picture.

Little Katie's impatience, her need for reassurance, her unspoken desire - unspoken only because she was still so small - kept Kathryn Janeway at the forefront of his thoughts. But, the way her questions were phrased, the childish inclinations for instant answers, her constant questioning about the woman whose face graced the picture… He sighed again, then allowed his memories to control him, allowed the floodgates to open wide because of Katie. Yet, so much  was his own undoing. So much.

Almost to the day, three days before Christmas last year he received the damning news.

"Dead?"

He had been shocked beyond belief when the Ministry of Ketarcha Prime informed him of the crash. He hadn't been concerned, hadn't even thought much of Annika being away for three weeks on a new mission. He hadn't missed her... Seven of Nine, cool-headed in any circumstances, losing control of her shuttle, crash-landing on the moon of Almor IV while investigating atmospheric disturbances. Seven of Nine dying in the crash, leaving behind a shattered, guilt-ridden husband and a detached little girl of three years.

"Yes, Professor. We are indeed filled with regret and do mourn with you the death of your wife."

He'd looked at the First Minister, still unable to grasp the reality or the facts. He had nodded in mute acceptance of the awful message, waiting at the door until the First Minister had left. Then an image of Katie assailed him and for a terrifying moment he wondered how he was going to tell her.

He had to, that night.

"Daddy, when is Mama coming home?"

Annika was to return that day. Katie had asked in the impassive manner her mother had drilled into her, whether they would have a Christmas tree and for the first time since their marriage, Annika had taken a long, studied look at her little girl, then nodded with a tight smile. She had promised that when she returned, they were going to get a tree. Annika who never bothered with traditions, asserting that traditions were irrelevant. No birthday celebrations, no Christmases, no traditions.

"When is Mama coming home? She said we could have a tree, Daddy."

He'd hauled Katie's baby soft body to him, for a few seconds sobbing with desperation. When he could calm a little, he'd held her away from him, her eyes big, filling her face, expectant.

"Mama is not coming home, honey."

"Where did Mama go, Daddy?"

He wanted to break then. Katie's eyes were probing, seeking his answer. She was too calm, too detached for a child of three. Katie fiddled with the ribbon of her nightgown, but kept her eyes on him.

"Mama died."

"Mama has gone to heaven?"

He frowned, wondering where that knowledge came from.

"Who told you about heaven?"

"Lisa's papa died, and he went to heaven."

"Lisa told you that?"

"Uh-huh. Mama is dead. Is she gone for all the time, Daddy?"

He'd sighed, pulling her close to him again and wishing the child would burst into tears. Seven had done a number on their daughter, turned her into a miniature little drone, diffident child, unable to show emotion, fearful of crying when she fell and hurt herself.

"Yes, honey. Mama has gone for all the time…"

"I must not cry, Daddy. Mama said when I'm sad I must be strong."

Damn Seven of Nine…

"It's okay to cry, Katie. It's okay," he assured her while stroking her cheek. "It's okay to cry…"

Katie had looked up at him.

"Mama is dead, Daddy."

Katie's soulful eyes filled slowly with tears. Annika was her mother and her mother was gone. She was a child. She had been nursed by her mother, raised and loved. Annika, stern most times, loved her daughter. That couldn't change. Now, the bond was broken and Katie's expressive eyes showed emotion for the first time. Her face  creased, the beginnings of tears in her eyes. For the next few minutes he held the little girl while she cried softly.

He cried with her.

For lost moments, for lost opportunities, for losing his wife because he did love her, for the guilt of falling out of love, for hating Annika that their daughter sought him more than she sought her mother, for never forgetting Kathryn  Janeway.

He had been disoriented in the weeks after Annika's death, tying up her affairs, organising the burial, tending to his motherless little Kathryn. Katie followed him everywhere, trailing him like a spectre, always near him, even when he worked. Sometimes she played with Lisa whose mother had married again, who seemed content with her new life and work on Ketarcha Prime. He had felt the old restlessness creeping up on him. His thoughts strayed more and more to Kathryn Janeway, the way her face looked the last time he saw her. They had all been standing in the sick bay of Voyager when the EMH had confirmed Annika's pregnancy. She had wanted to name their child for the woman who had raised her on Voyager, taught her about humanity. Annika had genuinely wanted to pay tribute to Kathryn Janeway in that manner.

Kathryn's look, the second in which her face contorted with pain and memory, haunted him since that day. Sometimes, lying in Annika's arms, content with his wife and the prospect of raising their baby, he could forget. Most times though, he remembered Kathryn's face that day.

It was that look that gave him hope.

The memory of it was also his undoing.

Out of the depths of his personal effects, hidden from Annika Hansen, his memories, precious gifts Kathryn had given him over the years on Voyager - pictures taken of Kathryn while they were somewhere on shore leave, Kathryn happy, Kathryn who could fling him to the stars and let her joy touch him too…

Out of the depths he took a picture he had taken of Kathryn, graced in it a beautiful frame and placed it on his bedside, two months after Annika died.

He afforded himself the luxury of looking at that face without Annika's presence, with the freedom of a man long imprisoned by memories that wouldn't leave him and by his guilt that he chose another even though he believed himself to be supremely happy. He afforded himself the luxury of grieving, not for Annika Hansen, but for Kathryn Janeway whom he lost. He could look at her timeless beauty and let the aura of peace that surrounded her fill him too. Kathryn Janeway who banished him and Annika to Ketarcha Prime, who had not wanted them to send her pictures of their daughter. Kathryn Janeway who lost more than what she gained. Kathryn whose pain-filled face never left him.

That night, placing the framed photo on his bed stand, relief such as he had never known, peace such as he had not experienced in a long time surged through him and he had fallen into a dreamless sleep.

The next morning when he woke up, he saw little Katie standing by his bedside, staring intently at the picture of Kathryn. So intently she gazed that he was afraid to disturb her. Small pudgy fingers raised to touch the glass in some kind of dark, deep, unspoken reverence. They remained paused in mid-air, dropped slowly to her side again. Yet, Katie kept staring open-mouthed, awed. After that, she never spoke of her mother again, never questioned her mother's absence from their lives. It was unnatural, he knew, and he comforted himself, albeit it reluctantly, in the knowledge that children so young were resilient and didn't grieve long.

Only because he shifted, did Katie realise that he was watching her. Her eyes were filled with longing.

"She is pretty, Daddy."

"Yes, she is," he said, his voice hoarse, his throat thick with emotion.

"Is she dead too, Daddy?"

He smiled painfully. Kathryn wanted to be dead to them. She wanted no contact, didn't want to know about the child, wanted no pictures, no scarlet ribbons, no reminders. Yet, her face… Chakotay sighed.

"No, honey. She's alive."

"Where is she, Daddy?" Katie asked and he gave a little groan as she clambered on the bed and wormed her way into his arms, lying so that she faced the picture.

"Who?" he stalled.

"She," Katie replied, pointing to the picture. "The Lady in the Picture."

"She is very far away."

"You know her."

His eyes closed in amazement of Katie's alarming intuitive understanding.

"Katie, I knew this lady a long time ago. I don't think she likes me anymore."

"But you like her picture."

"Yes," he sighed.

"Where is she?"

"On Earth. She lives on Earth…"

"Earth is very far away, Daddy. We are from Earth."

"Yes, sweetheart."

"Are we going to Earth, Daddy?"

He was silent a long time. When Annika died, he informed Admiral Paris, who must have sent the communiqué to Kathryn. He hadn't wanted to tell Kathryn himself. Her face, drawn, the slither of unhappiness she allowed him to see that day in the sick bay still disturbed him. Her injunction that they make no contact with her still engraved in his heart, his own unhappiness at having to agree to her conditions. He felt the old guilt wash over him again. He couldn't face her, couldn't bear to see her hate him or remain unhappy or worse, the ancient troubled thought that she didn't want to have anything to do with him, with Annika Hansen and their little girl Kathryn.

"Katie, honey, we can't go to Earth. I am working here on Ketarcha Prime. My work is here - "

"Lisa and her mommy and new Daddy went to Earth…for a holiday, Daddy."

"I know. But right now  we have to stay on Ketarcha, okay?"

"Can't I see the Lady in the Picture, then?"

He sighed, and gave her an answer he supposed, every parent driven into a corner by a precocious three year old, gave.

"Maybe some day, Katie."

"But she was your friend. Was she your best friend?"

"Yes, Katie. Kathryn Janeway was my best friend. The best anyone could ever have."

Chakotay compressed his lips at the memory of that morning, when Katie when he told her the Lady in the Picture was also named Kathryn. Katie had gone unnaturally quiet, like she was turning over information in her head, secretive, as he thought impossible for a child so young. He'd wondered what she could be thinking, for the way Katie's facial expression changed, as though she wanted to cry but didn't want to, kept him pondering for a long time on that. In fact, until the night the two of them turned up on Kathryn's doorstep. Katie had gasped, drawn in her breath slowly before clamping her mouth shut again. She had wanted to say something to him, something that she couldn't or shouldn't. She couldn't have known about Kathryn, yet he had the eerie feeling that she did.

After that, Katie never stopped asking questions about Kathryn.

"Can't we visit her, Daddy?"

"Daddy, I don't have a mommy anymore. It's going to be Christmas..."

Other children wanted their front teeth, teddy bears and books and targs and dolls and miniature star ships and holo-comics and new shoes and vid-coms and new hair cuts, fly shuttles solo and star in their own holo-programmes...

"Christmas is two months away, honey."

"But it's coming, Daddy. The Lady in the Picture will have a tree."

He had been harassed by his own daughter to the point of complete exhaustion. Katie never stopped looking at Kathryn's picture, never stopped asking about why he never visited his best friend. He always pleaded work, always fielded her questions by saying that Kathryn might not want him to come barging in on her.

"But will she like me, Daddy?"

It never ceased to render him mute every time Katie asked that question. Kathryn had never turned away a child in her life, but his daughter was a different matter. She didn't want Katie near her. He sensed that Kathryn would not reject Katie, but Katie was a memory, a reminder that he had chosen differently, that he alone  was responsible for changing their destiny.

"Yes, Katie. The Lady in the Picture will like you, I'm sure."

Katie had been appeased for exactly two weeks before she started again. He caught her time after time in his bedroom just staring at the picture. One day he found her sitting on the floor in her room, talking to her targ and other soft toys.

"And then Daddy will take me there and the Lady in the Picture will like me. Her name is also Kathryn, you know..."

The targ she held in her hands seemed to reply, to which Katie said, "You can all come with me. She will like you too..."

Standing just inside her door, Chakotay felt the fibres that held his heart in one piece started tearing ruthlessly apart.

What had he done? His daughter had an obsession to see Kathryn Janeway. She had connected to the face in the photo, discovered a bond that became stronger and stronger, found a thread that pulled her closer and closer to the face and the aura of goodness that exuded from it.

He heard Katie's saying to her targ, "And then I'm going to ask her a real big question. A very important question..."

*

Then one day, not so long ago...

"Daddy?"

"Yes, sweetheart?"

"Can I have ribbons for my doll's hair? Red ribbons?"

"Katie... You know we can replicate - "

"No, real ribbons, Daddy. Shiny, real red ribbons for Katie's hair."

"We don't have them here on Ketarcha, honey."

"On Earth. I saw pictures of dolls with ribbons..."

He sighed. It was two weeks before Christmas and there was nothing holding him on Ketarcha anymore. Katie wanted ribbons...

Later, after tucking her in, he sat a long time pondering, framing his words, plotting his course to Earth and what he'd say once he saw Kathryn again. For the idea had finally gelled in his mind and the moment he succumbed to the decision of returning to Earth, it had been easy.

Katie didn't just want to see the Lady in the Picture.

"Katie," he asked a few days ago, "would you like to go to Earth?"

"Oh, yes, Daddy! Then I can see her..." Katie's voice had dropped to hushed awe as she looked at him, her eyes gleaming unnaturally. Was she working herself into a fever? he thought. He closed his eyes for a moment and prayed that he was making the right decision. Katie wanted scarlet ribbons. Maybe, in a hope that flared painfully through his body, Kathryn Janeway also desired scarlet ribbons.

"Would you like to stay with the lady Kathryn, honey?"

A sharp little gasp.

"For all the time?"

"Yes, sweetheart."

"Can't Daddy come too?"

"I don't know - "

"I know, Daddy. You said she won't like you anymore."

"That's right."

It was a mad thing, a brilliantly impulsive thing. He had visions of Katie pestering him 'til into her teens about Kathryn Janeway if he didn't go. He had visions of Katie running away from home just to go to Earth and see Kathryn for herself. He had visions of Kathryn receiving his little girl with open arms...

"We must take her presents, Daddy. It's going to be my birthday too. I'll be four..."

"I know, pumpkin. Now, please, please, close your eyes and sleep."

"Yes, Daddy!"

That had been four days ago. It was four days in which he'd tied up his affairs, leaving Ketarcha Prime for good. It was four days in which Katie had displayed her joy, insisting that the Lady in the Picture stand on her bedside where she could look at it for as long as she wished. Katie had indulged in conversation with Kathryn, touching the surface often. He had known why Katie felt the bond, the indefinable thread that drew two people together. Kathryn's smiling face stared from the frame at Katie who often simply asked, "Will you be my mommy?"

His heart had thundered at what he heard from Katie's mouth, her desire to have a woman in her life again, and for that woman to be Kathryn of Voyager. He thought illogically of the red ribbons for her doll Katie maintained could only be found on Earth - real, satin shiny red ribbons not magically delivered from a replicator. Katie wanted the real thing. She wanted her scarlet ribbons.

He swore he was going to get her her scarlet ribbons.

Chakotay watched his little Katie sleep, his heart filled with joy and trepidation. In the morning they would leave on their three day journey for Earth and he would take the biggest gamble by asking Kathryn to take care of his little girl. Kathryn would not want him. He would settle in Mexico, leave Katie with the woman he knew could be a mother in the way Annika Hansen tried so desperately to be and couldn't. Kathryn would love his daughter unconditionally, even if she'd laid down conditions of never seeing them. But the circumstances have changed and so have the rules.

Sighing again, he touched her cheek one last time, lowering the illumination of the Mickey Mouse lamp.

_In three days, sweet Katie, you'll be home with the woman who should have been your mother..._

****

Kathryn Janeway stood just inside the door of Katie's bedroom, watching Chakotay caress the child's face. Her heart wanted to burst with pride and love, the occasional sad twinge that she never gave birth to their daughter the only brief marring of the moment. However, that moment passed and once again her heart went out to Annika Hansen who had, in death, given her such a precious gift on Christmas day last year.

The light was muted now and Kathryn smiled gently. Katie had insisted her Mickey Mouse bed lamp accompany her to Earth, along with all her toys. Father and daughter were close but after a year of living with her genetic mother, Katie had naturally shifted and showered much of her affections on Kathryn. A year ago she had despaired of ever being happy. Now, watching Chakotay read stories to their daughter, seeing the close bond between them, she was happy. Katie had come to her, a shy, diffident, unsmiling child who had been afraid to laugh out loud or to cry when sad and walked right into her heart where she belonged.

It had been a stupendous discovery and alarm when Katie asked her if she was not the daughter of Kathryn Janeway. Even Chakotay had been unaware of Annika's influence on their daughter or how her resentment at the child's likeness to Kathryn ate into her. Kathryn's gift of a pregnancy to a couple who would otherwise have remained childless was given with love, with commitment to be the best friend she could ever be to Chakotay. It was done with the noblest of intentions.

They had all underestimated the obsessive power of the mind and the heart that kept certain things horribly alive and real. Just as she herself couldn't forget her gift she made Chakotay and Annika, always wondering about little Katie, so she accepted that Katie was a reminder for Seven of Nine that another woman and her husband created the uniqueness of Katie Janeway. Annika could never forget that Kathryn Janeway was Katie's genetic mother, even though she loved her daughter. That knowledge always encroached with ruthless disregard for temperament and genuine love, coming at inopportune moments as reminders like, "Katie is actually Kathryn Janeway's child..."

How then could Annika Hansen burden a small child with such a revelation and truth? Now a year later Katie knew she, Kathryn Janeway, was her own mother. The resemblance to her real mother  was simply too astounding. Soon, Katie would learn the origins of her birth, but, Kathryn realised, Katie had already firmly entrenched Kathryn as the mother of her heart. It might be easier than she and Chakotay thought.

For five years she had hidden her desires from the world, tried desperately to ignore the fact that somewhere in the quadrant a child walked who was genetically hers. For five years she wondered how Katie looked, when she sprouted her first teeth, when Katie had taken her first faltering steps or spoken her first words. For five years she loved Katie, matured in the womb of an ex-Borg, with the desperation and obsession of the damned. She had known that she damned herself to a life of loneliness, that she would never be able to forget. But her gift had been given because she loved Katie's father beyond reason, beyond her own life, beyond any regard for her own personal happiness.

And Katie? Kathryn sighed and shifted her weight from one foot to the other. One day Katie would understand. One day they would show her pictures and vid-images of the woman who gave birth to her.  Katie would see Annika Hansen's face and remember the mother she had up to her third year. She would perhaps remember being breastfed, being held close, being sung lullabies. There would be no reproach for they would not ever sully the memory of Seven of Nine who did love her little girl. They would cherish Annika's memory for in death, she had given another lonely woman the chance to live again.

Chakotay, finally alerted to her presence, rose and walked slowly to her. She melted into his arms and gazed into his eyes.

"You were deep in thought," she whispered.

"I was thinking of the night before I returned to Earth. A week before I told Katie and it had been impossible to get her to sleep after that."

"You're so good with her - "

"So is her mother…"

"Thank you. Katie smiles and laughs a lot more now."

"I'm glad I came, Kathryn. I wanted only Katie's happiness, to give her the greatest gift she desired without ever being able to verbalise it. Then I would leave. Naturally I was hoping you'd take in a lonely and lost Daddy too."

Kathryn smiled tenderly as they walked to the lounge. It was three days before Christmas. A year had passed since he came looking for room for two at the inn. A year had passed since she prayed desperately for happiness. A year had passed since Katie asked shyly, "Will you be my mommy?"

"Now you're quiet, Kathryn," Chakotay's words broke through her reverie.

"You know what I was thinking, Chakotay?"

"I could guess, but I'd be horribly wrong."

"Scarlet ribbons..."

Chakotay stared at her for long moments. A fleeting fear gripped her, but when his eyes warmed again,, she gave a sigh of contentment. He cupped her cheek and drew her closer, closing his eyes when their foreheads touched.

"I understand, Kathryn. I understand completely."

******

THE END

 

SCARLET RIBBONS

 

I peeked in to say good-night   
When I heard my child in prayer   
"And for me, some scarlet ribbons   
Scarlet ribbons for my hair"   
  
All our stores were closed and shuttered   
All the streets were dark and bare   
In our town, no scarlet ribbons   
Scarlet ribbons for her hair   
  
Through the night my heart was aching   
Just before the dawn was breaking   
In our town, no scarlet ribbons   
Scarlet ribbons for her hair   
  
I peeked in and on her bed   
In gay profusion lying there   
Lovely ribbons, scarlet ribbons   
Scarlet ribbons for her hair   
  
If I live to be a hundred   
I will never know from where   
Came those lovely scarlet ribbons   
Scarlet ribbons for her hair

 **Jack Segal & Evelyn Danzig ** 

**Author's Note:**

> The story was loosely based on the song "Scarlet Ribbons". Cover version I listened to was Perry Como recording the song in 1958.


End file.
